Ruminations Running Riot

I write to capture sentimentslike caterpillars in a glass jar; words evolve into sentences, asthoughts crystallize and acquire meaning; bleeding out in black ink against whitemy reverie captured in cursive: a glacier, still and yetmelting into a crescive stream flowing over pebblesthat are many centuries old; gushing, words flowa babbling brook in pursuit of a …

Forget me not

Mike Walton was very forgetful. “You’d forget your head if it weren’t attached to your shoulders!” his wife, Janet, had sighed that morning, flinging her hands up in exasperation, after he’d forgotten half the items on the shopping list she’d given him. Now, on his way back to the grocery store, he paused to read …